A Step in the Right Direction

In the end, he knew the lengthy legal fight that drained his finances and soul was worth the sacrifices, not only to reclaim his reputation but to get his kids back into a stable environment. When life pivoted and took him on a journey he never imagined he’d be forced to take, his priorities shifted. Things he once considered important fell by the wayside. His focus redirected.

After the allegations became public, he wasn’t surprised by his employer’s decision to let him go. Too much pressure from outside forces. Bad for business. This added fuel to his burning desire to prove all of them wrong. His comfortable life had been uprooted by the baseless accusations leveled against him. After reading her spurious reasons for divorcing him, printed on letterhead from a prominent law firm, he knew it would be a protracted battle. Spite is a cancerous motivator to make someone else’s life miserable. And she was hellbent on fulfilling the promise she made when he told her he’d leave if she didn’t get help.

He did not return the hate in kind because he knew this tact would aid in his healing. Despite her attempt to erase him from history, he was able to reconnect with his children. He rebuilt bonds that shouldn’t have been shattered in the first place, bonds that were severed by the negative propaganda spewed from her, her lawyers and faceless trolls on social media. He gained full custodial rights when her second 10-panel drug test came back 100% positive.

He turned resourceful once the shared credit cards and bank account were frozen. Always good with money, living on a budget wasn’t a foreign concept to him. Still, the idea of struggling to provide for his kids was frightening. He relied on the same approach he has used when facing past obstacles in his life – accepting that it’s a multi-level challenge to be met one step at a time while acknowledging even the smallest victory is a sign he’s moving forward.

Once the kids were on their way to school and the apartment tidied up, he spent the mornings pounding the pavement, taking any part-time job that would pay him, preferably in cash, and allow him to be finished before the kids got off the bus. His shoes were wearing out, but not at the same rate as his son’s. So, patching the hole in the bottom of the eldest’s shoe was on top of the list.

Tonight’s main entrée centered around the generic, discounted mac and cheese prepared from a box that was part of the few groceries his last ten dollars bought. He was tolerant of the off-putting taste. His kids were Kraft kids, so they just thought this was a special variation. Going to bed with small bellies full keeps the hunger pangs from dominating their dreams.

Sitting in the quiet at the kitchen table, he eyes the tiny cardboard box still smelling of dried pasta retrieved from the trashcan. He separates the glued seams and flattens it. With the correct orientation, he cuts out two full insoles and a half one that will cover the area beneath the toes. He’s confident, assuming the rain holds off, this temporary repair to his son’s left shoe will last until the next payday.

His sense of worth from this fix is invaluable. He knows the better days he had longed for years ago when this nightmare started are nearing. And like a Spring fog that lifts by late morning, blue skies will be prevalent in his and his kids’ lives soon.